The Plan Commences Read online Kristen Ashley (The Rising #2)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Magic, Paranormal, Romance, Witches Tags Authors: Series: The Rising Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 209645 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1048(@200wpm)___ 839(@250wpm)___ 699(@300wpm)
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She felt her heart stutter, but she did not take her gaze from his.

“It is your choice, my king, make it now.”

“And have this hanging over my head so my wife and son can use it at will and play me like a puppet?”

“At least your new puppet masters will have the good of the people of Wodell in mind, not, at best, greed, and at worse, involvement in insurrection.”

He drew back in insult.

“You speak these words to me?” he asked.

“You yourself said this will be the finish of us, husband,” she reminded him. “I no longer have the wifely duty of managing your delicate sensibilities.”

Wilmer’s temper visibly snapped.

“Arise from my chair and get out,” he demanded hotly.

“Is that your answer?”

“Tell the people what you want,” he decreed, throwing his hands up. “I made a mistake. I have many responsibilities. I am king, but I am also a man. Mistakes are made. They will understand.”

“Will they? Will they, Wilmer?” she asked. “With Carrington’s counsel you have repeatedly led them to war against a superior force which not only ended in defeat, but to the deaths of our native sons. You have foolishly signed away their hard-earned monies. You have taken the counsel of a man who might be colluding with enemies of the state and you’ve done it for years. Every…single…thing Carrington has advised you to do has been with the goal of making you appear weak, dithering and greedy. His intent is not hard to read, just hard to prove. He wishes to destabilize your throne and you let him. So tell me, Wilmer, will they truly understand?”

His eyes narrowed, and his lips whispered, “I think I hate you.”

Her heart sank.

She gave no indication of that.

“What is your choice, my king?” she pressed.

He looked to the side, teeth clenched.

He looked back to her, nothing but cold in his eyes.

“Have him arrested,” he ordered.

“Do you wish to see the evidence?” she offered.

“I don’t care anymore.”

Mercy was not surprised at this.

For he never did.

“As you wish, my king,” she murmured, pushing up from her hands on the desk and rising from his chair.

“Right,” he mumbled sullenly.

She moved to the door.

She also stopped at it and turned.

Quietly, she said, “I hope sometime in the future, be it far, or near, that you understand I did this because I love you.”

“Really?” he asked, not having moved from his position in front of his desk, but he no longer appeared sullen or cold.

He looked upon her with distaste.

And somehow, that wounded her most of all.

“Really,” she whispered.

She then turned, stepped out of his study, closed the door and looked to Bram.

She then gave the king’s order.

75

The Welcome

King Noctorno

The Maiden’s Breast Inn and Public House, Dunlyn, North Coast

AIREN

“Oy, oy,” the man behind the reception bench called the moment they walked over the threshold. “Wenches to the back.”

Tor looked to Lahn who was studying the man curiously.

Though “curious” for Lahn appeared threatening.

The man was either blind, or stupid, because he aimed his next directly to Lahn.

“And you, we don’t want any instigators. You don’t keep yourself to yourself and toe the line, you can go back to Firenze, but before that, you can get your arse out of here.”

After the innkeeper delivered that, Lahn slowly turned his head to Tor and lifted his brows.

“I said, wenches to the back!” the man shouted, as Cora and Circe moved to their men’s sides.

Tor’s gaze shifted back to the keep to see, within seconds, he’d shot from unfriendly to dangerously hostile.

Tor further felt his wife’s bemusement, her mood matching his.

He also sensed attention coming their way from their right, opposite where the inn’s reception was.

This being where the tables and bar of the pub were.

Tor looked that way.

Yes.

They had the attention of the entirety of the pub.

All of the patrons being men.

“You can send them to the back or you can get your lunch elsewhere,” the man warned.

Tor looked again at the innkeeper. “Send who to the back?”

“What’s the matter with you?” the man queried in return.

“Not a thing,” Tor answered.

The keep gave him a look up and down and demanded, “You Airenzian?”

“I’m Valerian,” Tor shared, deciding not to share he was the Valerian, that being that country’s king.

The man reared back, making an “oof” of surprise.

“Long way away for you,” he stated something Tor did not need reminding of as this was the first time his boots had hit solid ground since they left Korwahk weeks ago.

“Yes,” he agreed unnecessarily.

“How’d you make it through those bloody Mar-el pirates?” he asked.

Tor had no wish to enter into a discussion with him, so he simply said, “Luck.”

“Best know our ways, Valerian,” the man instructed. “Your women, if they travel with you, they enter at the back. They go straight to their rooms. And they stay there.”

“No.”

Oh shite.

That came from Lahn.

The innkeeper’s face went hard.


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